


A Man's Measure: Lady Hawk's Hatching

by sharehenstar



Series: A Man's Measure [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A Man's Measure #5, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Leon, Canon-Typical Violence, Epic Bromance, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e08 The Sins Of The Father, Firsts, Head Knights and Cooks Who Know More Than They Let On, Knights Who Will Stay Away from Merlin If They Know What's Good for Them, M/M, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Two Idiots Who Won't Admit Their Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharehenstar/pseuds/sharehenstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Merlin proves far more useful than Arthur could ever have anticipated, and a legacy is born…(COMPLETE)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> So, remember that little scene with the crossbows in Episode 04x13, The Sword in the Stone? Well, I decided that for Arthur and Merlin to be so in-sync with each other during the attack, they had to have had plenty of practice. That spurned this little two (possibly three)-part story, so please enjoy!

**V: Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 1)**

"Will that be all for today's training, Sire?"

Arthur jerked out of his vague half-daze, more than a little startled, and tried to focus on his father's head knight, "My…my apologies, Sir Leon, what was the question?"

Sir Leon made no effort to conceal the small, knowing grin that flitted across his features, "I inquired as to whether you believed the knights' training for the morning was complete, Sire. If you will forgive my saying so, you are rather distracted this morning."

Arthur smothered a sigh. Lately, Leon (he may as well call him that now, mayn't he?) had steadily grown more familiar and bold with him—not that he could fault the older knight, as Arthur usually initiated such interactions himself.

_I wonder if I can blame Merlin for this?_

Either Leon had noticed his glance towards the courtyard's steps where Merlin had sat for most of the knights' practice, or the older knight had somehow hidden an ability to read minds, because he coughed to cover a polite laugh and murmured, "I believe Merlin has gone to fetch water, Your Majesty."

Arthur scowled, "The idiot…he is clearly not familiar with the concept of 'a day off.'"

A stray chuckle escaped Leon's tight control, "It appears not, Sire. At least when it comes to serving you."

"He served me well enough yesterday morning and the two days prior by accompanying me to find Morgause," muttered under his breath and not entirely by choice.

Leon glanced up at him from where he had just sheathed his sword, quite startled, "My Liege?"

Arthur flushed, "Never mind, Leon. Yes, we are done for the moment—at least until this afternoon."

He felt the older knight's unsure gaze resting on the side of his head, "Sire, perhaps it might be best if you were to…postpone this afternoon's drills?"

A tired sigh answered him, "I am not sure my father would allow it, Leon, but I will speak with him."

"That is not what I meant, My Lord," when Arthur glanced at him, Leon's worried eyes met his own.

Arthur felt his neck color.

The knights knew little of Arthur's recent…"enchantment," and with good reason—his father wished to stamp out the rumors before they ever circulated. Uther had explicitly forbidden all involved from discussing it—to do so would invite certain death.

Most knew that well enough and did not attempt to speak of it.

Only one other knew Arthur's true purpose for seeking Morgause, and after yesterday morning…his manservant had yet to broach the subject again:

_The door to his personal chambers creaked open even earlier than he had grown accustomed to in recent months. He heard the light footsteps of his manservant briefly pause, before resuming their gentle pattern across the flagstone floor. Behind them, the door to his chamber shut with a quiet snick._

_Arthur did not turn to face the younger man, instead listening to the hush of his riding cloak as Merlin neatly draped it across the back of the chair closest to the fire. Distantly, he wondered how many of his chores Merlin had already completed for the day._

_(For some reason, he felt fairly certain Merlin had not slept either this previous night.)_

" _I am indebted to you, Merlin," Arthur felt his manservant start at the soft statement, and stiffened himself._

 _He had not meant to speak out loud, but now that he had, he could not stop, "I had become…_ _**confused** _ _. Lost. I could not see Morgause for what she truly was, because I had been…_ _**blinded** _ _by the desire to know more about my mother."_

_Arthur turned slightly, daring only to drag his eyes far enough away from the courtyard below to catch Merlin out of their corners, hoping to prevent his (strangely) observant manservant from seeing the weariness echoing in their depths, "And it is thanks to you that I finally have. I know now…" he turned back to the window, "all those who practice magic are evil, and dangerous. Morgause had me exactly where she wished—poised to kill the king. Poetic justice, perhaps."_

_Silence answered him for a moment, then his manservant's voice spoke up, cracking slightly, "Happy to help."_

" _You sound oddly morose for claiming as such," Arthur murmured._

 _/But then,/ he conceded, taking a deep breath and holding out a shaking hand to Merlin, /what in this situation is there to be happy_ _**about** _ _?/_

_Merlin uttered a small sound of surprise, but nonetheless moved swiftly to entangle his fingers with Arthur's, fulfilling the only request for comfort the prince would make._

_Well that, and the head he dropped against Merlin's shoulder._

"Sire?"

Arthur started, and snapped his gaze up to lock with a pair of sparkling blue eyes less than an arm's length from his own.

For all their mischief, their owner tempered the look with understanding: "Water, Sire," Merlin murmured with a faint grin, holding out a cup beaded with condensation.

At that moment, Arthur came to a rather essential understanding of his own: "Thank you…" accepting the cup, he quickly bit off the _'my friend'_ which nearly accompanied it.

(After all, he could hardly play favorites, could he?)

The unexpected response elicited a startled (if pleased) blink and small smirk. Deliberately ignoring the burn of his cheeks, Arthur added, lips quirking, "It appears you aren't _entirely_ useless, after all."

(Far from it, actually, but if he told Merlin that, he rather thought his manservant would become unbearably smug.)

Merlin responded by rolling his eyes, "As you say, My Prince."

The smirk remained, however, and, in fact, grew. Arthur ignored it, focusing all his attention on drinking from the cup of water he'd been handed.

A soft chuckle, and Arthur felt his manservant move away. As soon as he determined Merlin's back had turned to him, the Crown Prince snuck a look at the younger man's form, tracking his progress through the rest of the knights and hiding a fond smirk of his own behind the rim of the cup.

Leon cleared his throat beside him, causing Arthur to tense and glance up at the older knight, a swath of red highlighting his cheeks.

The older man's lips twitched at their corners, "Sire, perhaps it might be best if you were less conspicuous about your regard for Merlin."

Arthur frowned, and buried his worsening blush in a deep swallow of cold water, "I assure you, Leon, any regard I might hold for that idiot lies in his entertainment value only."

Leon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, "Indeed, Sire?" He shifted his gaze over Arthur's right shoulder, lips pulling down into a displeased frown, "Then perhaps you do not mind that-"

Whatever Arthur might have minded, he never found out. At that moment, Merlin gave a bitten off, if startled cry, and the prince, despite himself, whipped around.

He faced his knights just in time to catch Sir Boris hastily retracting his sword's scabbard and to see Merlin barely catch himself, narrowly avoiding a rather ungraceful fall.

Unfortunately, he did not quite prevent the water bucket he carried from splashing the entire front of Sir Kay's tabard.

"Clumsy oaf!" the aforementioned knight snarled, snapping up his hand to strike Merlin.

Arthur would have none of it: " _Kay_!" he barked.

Hardly processing the movement, Arthur lunged between his manservant and one of his oldest friends.

As a result, Kay's hand was about to soundly crack him across his face.

At least, that was what Arthur _expected_ to have happen, and he braced himself accordingly.

Fortunately for all parties involved, Kay (oddly) appeared to jerk his hand to the side in mid-air, rather as if he had hit a wall of air, and instead landed a glancing blow on one of Arthur's pauldrons.

It still contained enough power to knock the Crown Prince back a whole half-pace, and Arthur barely managed to hold in a startled, if enraged, snarl.

 _If that had hit_ _**Merlin** _ _…!_

Sir Kay's eyes widened, and he immediately dropped into a bow, "M-My Liege!" he stammered.

Arthur clenched his teeth, biting back a truly poisonous chastisement, and found himself acutely aware, not only of Merlin's stunned stare at his back, but of all the _other_ knights' incredulous stares, as well. Save for Leon, who hid a satisfied grin.

Fisting his hands at his side, Arthur grit out, " _Kay_ …you know Merlin is hopelessly clumsy. Try standing next to someone who _hasn't_ sloppily buckled his sword belt next time and you might save yourself an unwelcome bath. _Let it go_."

Kay nodded, not quite daring to look at him, and cast a rather startled glance in a red-faced Sir Boris's direction. Holding in a predatory smirk, Arthur called out the instigator of this entire situation, "Sir Boris, kindly keep your kit up to regulation—I will be far less forgiving next time."

_Positively murderous might be a more accurate description._

Boris clenched his teeth, face flushed with humiliation, but bowed, "Yes, Sire."

Kay also bowed, frowning fiercely at Merlin over Arthur's shoulder, "My Lord, if I could request-"

Arthur shifted his stance, leveling the young noble with an even stare, " _No_ ," stated emphatically. "Let it _go_ , Kay," he repeated firmly.

Kay finally lifted his eyes, gracing Arthur with an inscrutable look and another nod. Boris's mouth twisted into a frown, but he bowed again, and both knights left the practice field.

Once they were well away, slim fingers touched Arthur's arm and he felt his cheeks color a fiery red as he turned to face Merlin.

Wise blue eyes, though sparking with gratitude, regarded him seriously, "You shouldn't have done that, Arthur. Really, it's nothing he hasn't done before-"

" _Before_?" Arthur sputtered. " _Mer_ lin…! How many times has Sir Boris-?"

"I think it is more an issue with Sir Kay, Your Majesty."

Badly startled, both Arthur and Merlin spun around to face Leon.

The older knight smiled tightly at the unguarded surprise that washed over the boys' faces, adjusting his grip on the reins of the stallion— _Arthur's_ stallion, now that the prince thought about it—he led towards them, "Sir Boris is not quite as proficient with the sword, nor as well-enmeshed in Your Highness's graces, as Sir Kay is. He therefore doubts his ability to win in single combat against Sir Kay, and cannot directly undermine him, as he is a close confidant of Your Majesty. Or, at least, I believed him to be," he leveled a curious look at Arthur, who flushed. "Merlin, unfortunately, is his favorite scapegoat. I believe that may be why Sir Kay meant to strike him—similar situations have occurred before."

"Kay _knows_ I do not condone such-!" he trailed off at Leon's raised eyebrow.

"Forgive me, Sire," Leon responded mildly, "but does he? Your previous manservants were not as…ah…well thought of as I believe Merlin is."

Merlin coughed, concealing a smile behind his fist when Arthur whirled to scowl at him, "You're a royal prat, Arthur. I saw how you treated Thomas, remember? Our first meeting? If you treated all your previous manservants as you did him, I can't say I am terribly surprised."

Arthur only scowled harder, cheeks blossoming red with embarrassment, "Why did neither of you bring this to my attention before?"

Merlin sobered, shrugging shyly, "I did not think it mattered, Arthur. Who would have believed me, anyway? I am a servant, Sir Boris is a knight." The younger man shook his head, "A servant's word is good for nothing, Arthur, when compared to that."

"To _me_ it is worth something, you idiot!" He snapped furious eyes to Leon, "Why did you not bring this to me as soon as it occurred?"

Leon dipped his head in acknowledgement of the reprimand, once more adjusting his grip on the stallion's reins, "My sincerest apologies, Sire. Until recently, I had not thought you would _want_ me to bring it to your attention."

"If there is an issue with my knights, Sir Leon," Arthur fumed, "then I expect it to be brought to me _immediately_ —do I make myself clear? _Especially_ if it involves my manservant!"

Before Arthur could work himself into a fine temper (well, more of one than he had already), Merlin laid his hand gently on the prince's arm.

Arthur found it utterly unfair how quickly such a simple gesture could calm him.

"Arthur, I appreciate it—truly I do. But I think Sir Leon understands," an impish smirk curled up his manservant's lips. "Actually, I didn't think you would care."

Even more unfair, under Merlin's good-natured ribbing, Arthur's anger almost immediately dissolved.

He smirked, "You must be delusional— _of course_ I don't care, you dollop head.  I merely thought it best to...ah...resolve the situation."

" _Arthur_!" Merlin gaped, then grinned. "That's my word, you prat!"

What else could Arthur do in response to that but laugh?

_End Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 1)_


	2. Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone except Merlin and Arthur have realized how close the two boys have grown over the course of the past two years…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this has definitely grown to at least three chapters in length, quite possibly four @_@ . Seriously, I guess I am having far too much fun to stop working on this particular installment of A Man's Measure, so you can expect at least one more chapter out of me for this particular story. I hope I am able to do it justice!

**V: Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 2)**

Leon did not quite hide his slightly indulgent gaze as he observed his prince and his prince's manservant. He'd be the first to admit that Merlin's presence in Prince Arthur's life had done wonders for His Majesty's disposition and happiness.

Today, for example.

After the events of the previous two days, Leon had begun to fear some irrevocable damage had been done to the prince, of whom (much to his surprise) he had grown quite fond. He had even feared the Crown Prince would never smile or laugh again (and he already did so rarely enough).

Today, because of Merlin, he had done both.

Little wonder, then, that the fondness he had begun to develop for his liege, had swiftly extended to his liege's manservant, as well.

True, Prince Arthur would still have to grapple with recent events—Sir Boris's and Sir Kay's altercation had not helped matters any, either. But with the odd wisdom that came to him so innately at moments like this, Leon acknowledged that he knew no one better than Merlin to help the prince regain his equilibrium.

A whicker and a neigh, as well as a strong nudge from a warm, wet nose in his shoulder, caused Leon to quietly laugh, "Shall we send them off, my friend?" he murmured to the noble beast.

An emphatic whinny seemed to indicate the Crown Prince's stallion agreed with him.

Fondly patting the charger's neck, Leon turned back to the two young men watching horse and human's interaction curiously. Gracing them with a small, warm grin, he observed softly, "Your Highness's father will want a report of this morning's training."

Prince Arthur's bright countenance dimmed, "Thank you, Leon, I will see to it presently."

"You misunderstand me, Sire," Leon interrupted gently, "I merely thought to inform you. I would be happy to present the report to the king in Your Majesty's stead."

The slow dawning of hope in his young lord's face elicited a pleased smile on Leon's lips, "Truly? I would not ask it of you, Leon."

"It is of little trouble, My Lord," Leon assured him softly, still smiling. He winked at Merlin (who started, then suppressed a satisfied grin), "And I do believe I may be able to convince Your Highness's father to take over this afternoon's training, as well—My Lord Uther confided to me recently that he missed it."

It took a moment for the Crown Prince to comprehend his head knight's offer; when he did, Leon caught in a breath at the most glorious grin that spread across his young monarch's face, "You are truly a boon, Leon. _Let's go_ , _Merlin_!"

Leon's face colored deeply as the prince swung himself up onto the back of his steed and held his hand down to his manservant, "As you say, My Liege," he murmured, holding the animal's head steady and burying his embarrassment in the sanctuary of duty.

Merlin grinned at him, gently tangling his fingers with Prince Arthur's. As the older boy helped him swing himself up onto the saddle behind him, the manservant warmly regarded his master's knight, "Thank you, Leon."

For some reason, Merlin's gratitude embarrassed him almost as much as Prince Arthur's. Genially, Leon waved him off, cheeks red, "As I said, it is little trouble." He relaxed out of his rather formal stance, "You may find the kitchen staff amenable to packing a luncheon, Merlin. I trust you are aware of His Majesty's needs. Shall I expect you back by supper, Sire?" directing that last part to the Crown Prince.

Arthur grinned down at him brightly, "Yes, Leon, you may."

Leon coughed in an attempt to conceal his laughter when the prince, once aware that Merlin had precariously balanced himself behind him, turned an incredulous eye to said manservant, "Very well, Your Majesty."

Bowing, Leon left the two boys to their own devices, smothering an errant chuckle when he heard, if faintly and over his shoulder, "Unless you wish to make a premature visit to Gaius, _Mer_ lin, I suggest you hold on."

IOIOIOIOIOI

 _At least the bloody prat_ _ **warned**_ _me,_ Merlin grumbled inwardly, clutching tight to Arthur's waist as they clattered across the cobblestoned courtyard of the castle.

He could not complain much otherwise: a day off, a break from the castle and all his princely duties, was _exactly_ what Arthur needed to start healing from his encounter with Morgause.

(That it was _his_ day off, too, never occurred to Merlin. Until all threats to Arthur's person were eliminated, he would never truly _have_ 'a day off.')

Luckily, most of the castle seemed to have chosen this day to be busily engaged with their own duties, and none (of whom the two boys were aware) witnessed the unprecedented spectacle of Camelot's Crown Prince riding double with his manservant.

Until they reached the kitchens, that is, and found one of the cooks who had been in the castle's service since Arthur's mother had taken her on over eighteen years prior about to lift a flour sack.

The older woman promptly stilled upon sighting the prince and his manservant, and straightened with a creaking of aging joints. Familiar enough with the golden-haired Crown Prince (and the changes said Crown Prince had undergone since his current manservant's arrival), she simply gave a mildly nonplussed set of blinks as the two boys clattered to a stop in front of her and curtsied: "Your Highness," she murmured.

Arthur smiled warmly at her, reining in his steed, "Margot," he acknowledged quietly. "Might we trouble you for a bit of luncheon to take out with us? Merlin can help you gather whatever you require."

Margot tilted her head thoughtfully, smiling, "I know jist the thing, Sire. 'Twere a fav'rite of yer mother's when she an' My Lord Uther went a larkin'."

Merlin silently wondered whether the cook caught the mixed look of pain (at the mention of his mother) and astonishment (at the thought of the stern, humorless Uther doing something as frivolous as "larkin'") that crept into Arthur's blue eyes. Certainly, she could not, as he did, see the older boy's hands clench around the reins as Merlin slid off the stallion's back to stand with her.

"Thank you, Margot," the prince responded softly, dismounting himself with the clear intention of waiting. "I will require double today, if we have enough."

Merlin—mystified—raised an eyebrow, "Hungry, My Lord?"

Arthur ignored him, patting the stallion's neck.

Frowning in absolute puzzlement, Merlin finally shrugged and gave it up as a bad job. Particularly since Margot's own eyebrow had shot nearly to her hairline and a smile tugged at the far corners of her lips upon receiving that request. She curtsied again, "'Tis no trouble 't all, Your Majesty. I'll see it done." She turned to Merlin, brown eyes sparkling faintly with mirth, "Git along now, lad," she scolded him warmly, shooing the younger boy in front of her.

"Yer too thin by half," she added when he moved to pick up the flour sack for her and found himself shepherded past it.

Catching sight of Arthur's poorly concealed amusement as he watched his long-suffering manservant being herded into the cook's domain, Merlin shot an eye roll at said royal prat and resigned himself to a job well done as the pained look drained from his master's blue eyes.

IOIOIOIOIOI

When Merlin emerged from the kitchens some ten minutes later, heavily laden with luncheon, he found a red-eyed Arthur sitting on a large bundle of straw and staring morosely out into the distance.

Perhaps he should have felt more startled upon making that discovery than he actually did, but he had almost expected it.

So he adopted the route he normally did when aware of Arthur's turmoil and the prince's desire to hide it: "Lazy prat," he kept his voice intentionally light and teasing, "can't actually be bothered to move, can you? I thought knights were _supposed_ to be chivalrous."

He deliberately ignored the jump Arthur gave at his remark and steadfastly pretended not to notice the hasty scrubbing said prince's eyes underwent as the older boy quickly stood. Moving towards the stallion, he carefully loaded up (with a slight struggle) the saddlebags Leon had thoughtfully provided, "You could help me, you know!"

A garbled chuckle was his reward, "Unless you have somehow become a _lady_ , _Mer_ lin, chivalry does not apply to you."

Merlin grabbed the stallion's leather reins, untying them from where Arthur had tethered them to the kitchen door's handle, "I thought chivalry _also_ meant giving what help you can, to _whoever_ you can."

Arthur walked towards him until he drew up even with Merlin and grinned faintly into his manservant's eyes, "Then I will be sure to cite that in the speech I give at your knighting, since you have apparently made it your mission to help me out in any way you can today. Do not underestimate me, _Mer_ lin; I know what you are trying to do."

Slow heat and deep color crept into Merlin's cheeks. Clearing his throat, he glanced away from the sparkling blue eyes of his prince in an attempt to conceal his pleased embarrassment as they began to walk, "Aren't you supposed to be _riding_ , Sir Knight?"

Arthur shrugged, a slight sheen of red highlighting his own cheeks, "I would rather walk." He smirked, "Besides, it will give me time to elucidate on just what chivalry means and how it _most certainly_ does not apply to my manservant."

Merlin rolled his eyes, lips twitching fondly, "You're horrible, Arthur."

IOIOIOIOIOI

No one stopped Merlin and Arthur on their journey from the castle and through the lower town, despite the curious, if stunned, glances their easy companionship drew as they walked. The younger boy could not tell if it bothered Arthur—the prince seemed intent on enjoying his rare afternoon of freedom far too much to worry about the rumors sure to circulate before nightfall.

Of course, he _also_ had to jumpstart those rumors by mounting his charger (and expecting Merlin to mount behind him) in full view of the guards above the drawbridge.

" _Come on_."

Dubiously regarding Arthur's outstretched hand, Merlin demanded incredulously, "And have my neck snapped by your idea of a 'fun' ride? I beg mercy, _My Lord_."

Arthur rolled his eyes, unable to quite conceal the amused smirk tugging at his lips, " _Mer_ lin."

A whinny and a nudge from the stallion's warm nose against his cheek caused Merlin to groan, and grab the older teenager's hand, allowing Arthur to heft him up into the saddle behind him, "I'd like to point out that I objected most strenuously to this particular mode of transportation, so _you_ can explain to Gaius why my spinal cord is broken when we see him tonight."

Arthur snorted, "It will take too long to procure a horse from the stables for you, not to mention transferring the bags to your steed would take even longer, as _I_ am certainly not carrying them. And I certainly will not allow you to _walk_ , since, knowing you, you would probably do so straight into a bear trap or something similarly fatal."

In response, Merlin gave a half-hearted scowl, "I am humbled by your faith in my walking capabilities, _Sire_."

"Merlin?"

"Aye, My Liege?" his manservant returned ironically, expecting a ' _shut up_ ,' and receiving something else entirely.

Arthur smirked, "Hold on."

Merlin had barely grabbed Arthur's waist, before said prince kicked his heels into the sides of his eagerly prancing stallion and they shot off towards the woods surrounding Camelot with the whistling wind in their ears.

_End Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 2)_


	3. Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Merlin proves far more useful than Arthur could ever have anticipated, and a legacy is born…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins ::mischievous smile::. I had so much fun writing this chapter—not that I condone violence, mind. But I have had these scenes stuck in my head for so long that I am thrilled I finally got them out. Only one more chapter to go after this (I promise!), so I hope you enjoy this one!

**V: Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 3)**

"I hate you," Merlin's disgruntled mutter came from Arthur's back, which he finally dared to raise his head from once their stallion had broken into a more or less steady canter.

"Oh, come off it, _Mer_ lin," Arthur's grin permeated his voice, "you are _supposed_ to be enjoying yourself."

"I _enjoy_ keeping my seat," Merlin's irritated grumble elicited such a stream of unabashedly delighted laughter that he could not even continue to complain on principle.

"You _did_ keep it, Merlin, and that is a miracle in and of itself!" Arthur's laughter was pure and bright, and Merlin (much to his annoyance) could not prevent his own laughter from involuntarily pouring out of his throat to intermingle with the Crown Prince's own as they raced along.

Arthur's stallion, sensing the delight of his master and his master's companion, tossed his head and whinnied with a fierce, primal joy as he hit a speed just shy of daring.

Delight which immediately diffused when they blasted through a grove of young saplings, and Merlin realized his magic—bubbling in reaction to Arthur's unrestrained elation and his own—had caused the showering green leaves of the saplings to fly into the wind and coalesce to form the vague outline of a horse equal in breadth and height to their own.

It charged alongside theirs, as if racing around a dirt track.  Arthur (who could not have missed it) laughed brightly upon catching sight of the figure.

Throat clogged by blank fear and shock, Merlin could only tightly grip the older boy's waist and pray he thought it a consequence of--

His prince's blissfully oblivious laughter swelled up around them, "You are _such_ a girl's petticoat, _Mer_ lin. It's just the wind!"

Nearly faint with relief, Merlin forced a cheery, utterly unserious, "Racing the wind, My Lord? Racing it _where_ , may I ask?"

All the warning he had to avoid potentially self-fulfilling a prophecy, was Arthur's smirk and completely unapologetic, "Here," just before the prince jerked back on the stallion's reins.

IOIOIOIOIOI

"Have I mentioned lately that I hate you?"

"Once or twice," Arthur did not bother to hide the amusement coloring his voice now. It was only the two of them, after all.

He received a sharp glare for all his trouble, as his clearly shaky manservant swung a leg over the charger's side in preparation to dismount, "Then I'll say it again— _I hate you_."

Arthur beat him to it, swiftly jumping from the saddle to the ground and offering his arm with little conscious thought, "You do not."

(Cringing, Arthur prayed his manservant did not notice how _un_ like a retort that sounded, as insecurity hardly befitted the Crown Prince of Camelot.)

Merlin blinked owlishly at him for a moment, taking in both Arthur's unexpected gesture and uncertain tone, "'M not a lady," he finally muttered, settling for a piqued glare, "you said so yourself."

It should be duly noted, however, that he grabbed Arthur's shoulder all the same.

Arthur gripped his arm in return once Merlin had both his feet on the ground, hold unusually tight, and abruptly turned quite serious, "I would not have let you fall, Merlin. Surely you know that?"

Merlin glanced at him sharply, utterly taken aback, before narrowing his eyes contemplatively. At last he allowed a smug smirk to twitch at his lips' corners, "Fine. I don't _completely_ hate you, then."

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur groaned, knocking his head despairingly against Merlin's shoulder. It took him barely a few seconds to realize what he had done, and even less time than that to promptly color two shades of red and hastily backpedal, "You are enough to drive _anyone_ to drink!"

Such a shoddy cover up, but the part of him that _hadn't_ devolved into full-fledged panic felt distantly amazed that his manservant had fallen for the diversion at all.

(Well, Merlin— _despite_ what Arthur had come to freely acknowledge, if only to himself—had always had a bit of a blind spot when it came to noticing Arthur's steadily developing regard for him.)

As such, said manservant only smirked warmly, "Pot. Kettle."

Entirely bemused by the apparent non sequitur, Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Whatever you say, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin smothered a laugh, allowing Arthur to duck out from underneath his hands, "Find a comfortable place to sit, Your Prattiness, and I'll set up your luncheon."

A thoroughly unimpressed Arthur raised his other eyebrow, "I _am_ the Crown Prince, Merlin. You are not allowed to order me around."

In response, Merlin gave an unrepentant grin, "I just did."

Smothering a groan, Arthur nonetheless did as asked, "…By the way, Merlin…"

Merlin, in the process of unloading the saddlebags, answered with a noncommittal hum, "Hmm…?"

Keeping his back turned to his manservant, Arthur walked over to a fallen log, which he proceeded to settle against, and did not attempt to restrain a grin, "It is your luncheon, too. Or did you _really_ think I was that hungry?"

The nonplussed sputter he received in return proved highly satisfactory.

(That he had also had the last word only solidified matters).

IOIOIOIOIOI

"…So why all this?"

Yes, Merlin knew he should not question good fortune (what else could their utterly scrumptious luncheon count as?), but with the way Arthur had acted all morning…he feared the prince had some deeper hurt, more than the aftermath of their confrontation with Morgause, that he did not know how to voice and could not bring himself to ask for help with.

The remains of their lunch lay scattered around them: melon and ham rinds, scraps of uneaten cheese and crusts of bread, along with a half-empty wine flask. Arthur, where he had folded his arms behind his head and stretched out along the ground once they had finished eating, peeled open one eye and peered up at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "I am the prince, _Mer_ lin. I do not have to explain myself to you."

Merlin rolled his eyes, unease and wine making him bold, and shifted to sit close beside Arthur's head, "Fine. _Enlighten_ me, then. Why bring me—and _only_ me—with you? Why include me in your afternoon plans and luncheon at all? Last I checked, Arthur, masters don't do that for their manservants. _Friends_ do."

Arthur quickly rolled onto his side, hiding his expression from an increasingly frustrated and worried Merlin, "And if I wanted you to be a friend today? I've begun to think that if things were different—if I weren't a prince and you weren't a servant—we would have become good ones."

By now, he had levered himself up onto his knees and so did not catch the fondly exasperated glower Merlin sent at his back, "Then I would have said you only needed to have asked."

Arthur gained his feet and, standing, strode over to his stallion where the beloved beast had been grazing a few feet from them. Rummaging through the remaining saddlebags they had hung from the lower limb of a nearby tree, he emerged a few seconds later with his prize: twin steel daggers whose hilts had been wrapped with leather and dyed blue.

Carefully, he tossed them to Merlin, who yelped and scrambled backwards, fumbling to catch them by their hilts.

As they slipped from his fingers and to the ground, a burst of irritation shot through Merlin when he realized his master had hardly batted an eye.

Arthur shrugged at his manservant's glare, full of equanimity, "Consider this me asking, then."

Warily eyeing the daggers which had landed (safely) and stuck fast in the earth, Merlin muttered, "If that was you asking, I'm not sure I want to understand the question."

Arthur merely grinned: "Spar with me," he requested simply.

Merlin snapped his head up, eyes wide with disbelief, " _What_?" he squawked.

"Spar with me," requested again, and just as simply.

Utterly baffled, Merlin blinked between him and the daggers, slightly afraid to translate those words into an invitation he understood.

_Well, that's certainly not anything he's requested of me before._

Arthur's lips twitched at their corners, "Surely you are familiar with long daggers, _Mer_ lin."

The goad worked: snatching up the daggers and scowling, Merlin retorted scathingly (or tried to, anyway), "Contrary to what you seem to believe, _Sire_ , I _am_ fully capable of-"

Whatever he was "fully capable of," neither boy ever found out, for in that moment, the foliage erupted around them.

IOIOIOIOIOI

In the eternal seconds that followed, several things happened simultaneously: Arthur's stallion reared, braying angrily and kicking out his front hooves as an arrow landed directly between them and stuck fast in the ground. Arthur, completely startled and unprepared for such a movement, whipped around and made a desperate grab for his charger's reins, narrowly avoiding a second arrow, which sliced through his tabard on its right side and embedded itself deeply into the trunk of a tree mere feet behind his head. Just as a third arrow whistled through the air and barely nicked Merlin's cheek as he dodged to the side.

Checking a half-choked yell (a distraction Arthur most certainly did _not_ need), Merlin had only just scrambled to his feet, when the undergrowth exploded with at least half a dozen raggedy, unkempt, fully grown men.

" _Bandits_!" Arthur's own yell carried over the ringing of his unsheathed sword and the almighty neighing from his steed, who, thoroughly unhappy with the rude interruption of his grazing, decided the best way to express that displeasure was to trample two men who had come a little too close to him.

Unfortunately, four more appeared to take their place.

Forced to spin around and face three who decided he looked like easy prey, Merlin muttered under his breath, more than a little sarcastically, "Thank you for that valuable insight, _My Liege_. As if I couldn't have figured that out for myself!"

Arthur's breathless laugh reached Merlin just as the prince spun to block a thrust that would have skewered said royal's side, "I thought it best to ensure you did, given your propensity to be utterly oblivious on occasion."

Merlin could not spare the breath to retort, as the nearest assailant to him decided now would be the ideal time to attack.

The warlock would never be able to tell who he surprised more in the next second: Arthur, who heard the clash of steel against steel as his supposedly useless manservant easily met the bandit's sword with two crossed daggers, or the bandit himself, who found his blade matched blow for blow by the serving boy he _thought_ to be helpless.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Their supposedly joyous and carefree afternoon devolved from there:

Apparently, they had stumbled across the bandits' hidden den, as the men never seemed to stop pouring into the clearing. As soon as one man fell, two more appeared to take his place. Merlin counted it lucky that all the treasure they had were three finely wrought steel weapons, the remains of a hearty lunch, and a prize stallion.

Oh, and the Crown Prince of Camelot, but he kept determinedly mum about that.

The bandits' relentless assault kept him so busy that he had little chance to consciously make any use of his magic. He knew it had intervened several times, when a few bandits grew a bit more bold and reckless, and crept too close behind he or Arthur (more than one man that day had the unpleasant experience of a large tree branch cracking across their skulls), but for the most part, the men who fell due to Merlin, fell because they felt the bite of his twin daggers in their flesh.

Somehow, that was almost worse, but Merlin cut off that line of thought by battling with a single-minded determination to reach Arthur's side.

(He did not have to be a knight, after all, to know you _never_ allowed yourself to be separated from your partner.)

Unfortunately, his prowess with the daggers had the detrimental effect of proving more than a little distracting for Arthur, who (up until a few minutes ago) had quite firmly believed that while Merlin was far from useless, he nonetheless was rubbish at anything remotely involving steel or weaponry.

Merlin did not have the chance to revel in the fact that he had proved his sometimes-aggravatingly-arrogant-prince wrong: " _Arthur_!" he screamed, half a dozen paces too far (and lacking any useful greenery) to prevent a particularly sly bandit from sneaking up on the older boy from behind.

That frantic cry was the only warning Arthur had to duck aside in order to avoid the rapidly spinning dagger that flew through the air where, moments ago, his ear had been.

As it turned out, the prince did not dodge it in quite enough time to stop its blade from nicking his forehead.

Merlin saw Arthur flinch at the white hot zing of pain, and watched him stare as the man behind him choked, gurgled, and crumpled to the ground, quite clearly dead.

Dead by an expertly thrown dagger from his apparently not-so-incompetent manservant.

"That's number _six_ , you git!"

Merlin's tight exclamation came from Arthur's side, where said manservant abruptly appeared, retrieving the dagger he'd thrown and spinning in that same motion to block another attacker's sword as it came whistling down towards their heads.

"Six?"

Merlin might have forgiven him his rather dazed response, had he not been forced to duck a parry the prince forgot to warn him about as the older boy pivoted to block a blow that would have amputated Merlin's arm.

"Times that I've saved your life, _clot pole_!"

Sure he had lost more than a few hairs to Arthur's maneuver, Merlin opted to stay in his crouch until he otherwise deemed it safe to rejoin the melee, lashing out with his daggers when a third assailant ventured too close.

Fortunately, the remaining bandits seemed to regard the boys as too much trouble; at that moment, with a shrill whistle from their leader, the last dozen men melted into the trees' shadows.

Merlin and Arthur were left staring at each other, breathing heavily as the ruckus their little skirmish had caused settled down and silence seeped back into the woods.

Moments later, Arthur broke it with a breathless, " _By all the gods_ , _Merlin_...! Where did you learn to _fight_ like that?"

_End Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 3)_


	4. Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelot's Lady Hawk has finally hatched, and his alias is made known to all of posterity…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is here that we start delving dangerously close to a canon divergence ::sheepish smile::. As I wrote this final chapter of Lady Hawk's Hatching, and started planning for the next installment, I realized I had effectively created my own universe within the world of BBC Merlin. I had not planned on nearing this point until sometime in late Season 3 or Season 4, but alas, my writing tends to run away from me ::grins::. I hope you enjoy it—I know I certainly did!

**V: Lady Hawk's Hatching (Part 4)**

"…Ealdor," Merlin finally sighed some time later, when they had staked out the perimeter of their clearing and determined no bandits remained within several hundred feet of the place. "I learned—well, taught myself, more like—how to fight like that in Ealdor."

Even though they had thwarted the bandit attack and come out of it relatively unscathed, Arthur still persisted to pester Merlin about his "bloody impossible" talent with the daggers, determined to hear out every last bit of the tale.

"During the winter months, Will—yes, _Will_ , Arthur—and I often had little to do, once the cottages had their thatch replenished and their damage from the summer storms mended. We learned basic reading, and writing, and ciphering, but none of that was ever enough to occupy us for long. Even the various chores we had to do—feeding and watering the animals, sometimes hunting, or gathering, taking stock of what would be needed to survive the coming winter…none of that filled the afternoons and evenings quite enough. So we practiced with daggers then, and continued to practice, too, into the spring—remember I told you that spring was raiding season? Knowing how to fight like that…it often came in handy."

Arthur fell silent at last, mulling over Merlin's response. Leaning back on his hands (and eliciting a frustrated hiss from Merlin, who had _tried_ to clean the cut on his forehead for the past ten minutes), the prince muttered thoughtfully, "That still does not explain your proclivity for them."

Merlin shrugged, carefully dabbing at Arthur's (minor) wound with his damp neckerchief, which he had doused with water from a nearby stream, "I…just have a knack for them," light blush touched his cheeks. "Truly, Arthur, that's all. And well…" the blush deepened. "I may have enjoyed practicing with them…er…a little _too_ much. Mum kept taking them away from me when I was small—she was afraid I'd accidentally hurt myself, I think."

His sheepish explanation startled a laugh from Arthur (and a groan from Merlin, who had to chase his master as the older boy leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees), "Father did that to me a few times with my sword. I finally just hid it from him."

Merlin rolled his eyes, successfully managing to clear out the blood and dirt from the prince's forehead, "Well, _some_ of us ran out of hiding places because our cottage was too small."

Arthur laughed again, propping himself up by his elbows on the ground and still riding on the high caused by a well-fought battle or skirmish, "You should have used the shed."

" _Arthur_."

Surprised by the irritated glower he received from his manservant and the growl inherent in the younger boy's words, Arthur raised an eyebrow and blinked, "What?" asked bemusedly as he sat up again.

Merlin grit his teeth, clamping down on Arthur's shoulder, " _Hold still_. I am _trying_ to see how badly my dagger injured you."

An immediate frown flashed across Arthur's face, "It is hardly _your_ fault, _Mer_ lin," but he nonetheless stilled enough to allow his exasperated companion to examine him.

As it turned out, Arthur could actually prove himself quite perceptive when he desired to: Merlin frowned fiercely and probed perhaps a bit harder than he had meant to at the cut.

Arthur winced (and tried to mask it), snatching the soaked neckerchief from his startled manservant and pressing its cloth up against the laceration on Merlin's cheek before the younger boy could object or react. "Besides," he pointed out, carefully beginning the process of cleaning it, "I nearly walloped your head off."

Despite himself, Merlin smirked, "Admitting to manslaughter, _Sire_? I always knew you wanted to behead me."

Arthur rolled his eyes, directly contradicting the care with which he treated Merlin's own wound, "Believe me, I have desired to on a few occasions."

Lightly, the prince grasped his chin, swiping the laceration clear of the final particles of dirt and carefully cleaning blood from the surrounding skin, "I don't suppose we will need sutures for these, will we?" murmured absently.

Merlin gingerly shook his head, "I don't think so, but Gaius may say different. We should probably head back so he can check."

"Hmm," uttered thoughtfully as Arthur lowered the neckerchief. He relinquished it to Merlin's grip when his manservant reached for it, "You know…this only happened because we haven't fought together before now—not like that, anyhow."

Merlin forcibly bit back, " _Not that_ _ **you're**_ _aware of, anyway,_ " and tilted his head to raise an eyebrow at the older boy, "And what do you propose we do about it, Sire? I can hardly join the knights' training, now can…I…?"

He trailed off warily at the unabashed eagerness that abruptly lit his prince's face, "I think that…yes, _yes_! If I present it the right way…After all, why _shouldn't_ you…?"

Both Merlin's eyebrows shot to his hairline, "Arthur, in case you've forgotten, I _am_ a servant…"

Arthur waved his objection aside, "That doesn't matter. You are _my_ servant, and if I say you should receive weaponry training, then you _will_."

Several seconds of silence passed, with Merlin staring in utter disbelief. "Arthur," he finally managed, " _I am a servant_. Do you honestly think your knights would allow a _servant_ on their training field?"

"You'll train with me," stated determinedly, "and when I need to work with the others, I will hand you over to Leon. I am sure he would agree…"

"Arthur-"

"And if my father objects, I will tell him that since you always follow me, regardless of what I order you to do, then you may as well know _something_ useful to prevent you from becoming a liability…"

" _Arthur_ -!"

At the irritated snap, the prince abruptly stopped, " _What_?" demanded, complete with an annoyed scowl.

Merlin just groaned, burying his head in his hands, "Why are you so determined to do this? Seriously, Arthur, _why_?"

The scowl turned into a puzzled frown, "Why shouldn't I be?"

Merlin shook his head and gave a helpless laugh, "Fine. I give up. It's easier just to let you have your way."

Arthur smirked, "And you are just figuring this out _now_? You really are rather slow on the uptake, aren't you, _Mer_ lin? You ought to have learned that years ago."

Squeezing excess water out of his neckerchief and stretching, Merlin stood, nudging Arthur companionably with his hip, "Prat," murmured warmly as he moved towards their stallion, who had proceeded to ignore them after the skirmish and gone back to his grazing, "you would have grown bored if I had."

Once he had reached the saddlebags which (thankfully) still hung from their tree, a remarkably hesitant and uncertain question piped up, "Merlin…?"

It effectively ended all forward momentum: "Arthur?" Merlin spun around, watching his prince with concern.

His gaze was met by an uncharacteristically shy glance from Arthur's blue eyes, "Leave the bags where they are for now. We…We have a bit of time before we need to head back to Camelot."

(As he walked back towards Arthur, Merlin mused he would do quite a lot to see such a look enter his prince's eyes again.)

Kneeling in front of Arthur, who looked, if possible, even shyer, Merlin fondly rolled his eyes, "You're hopeless, you know that?" spoken as gently as he knew how. "You prat, would it kill you to _ask_ for something for once? It's not exactly like I can say "no." Why don't you tell me why you _really_ want to stay here? Or why you asked me to spar with you in the first place, for that matter? I somehow think there is more to it than the joy of practice, Arthur."

"When has your supposed inability to say "no" stopped you?" Arthur demanded incredulously, but Merlin knew a diversion when he saw one.

"Arthur," remarked patiently, and the older boy cringed, subsiding. "You said you wanted a friend today. Treat me as one now. Friends are supposed to _help_ with things like this…you know?"

For a few prolonged seconds it seemed like Arthur would clam up and choose not to respond, but then he released a gusty, hitching sigh, and his shoulders relaxed: "It…" Merlin nodded encouragingly as Arthur wet his lips, "It helps me relax…th-the sparring." He sighed again, a little unevenly, "Whenever I am frustrated, or angry, or…upset…" he looked particularly uneasy, admitting to that (for, as Merlin knew, he considered it a weakness), "sparring lets me work through it." The prince grimaced, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck, "Granted…usually "sparring" consists of me attacking a dummy. I know…I know you've seen it in action before, that time when Morgana got so sick I…"

Merlin winced. He remembered that day far too well, and had known even then that such exertion was one of the only outlets Arthur believed available to him.

Arthur, who suddenly blinked and straightened up, his expression undergoing a drastic transformation as something clearly occurred to him, "You…you _stayed_ with me out there, didn't you? The _entire_ time, and I never-"

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted him hastily, voice compassionate and strong, "I did, and I was happy to _do_ it, Arthur. I…I couldn't help you in any other way, so I thought…" he blushed, "I thought…perhaps…I could at least give you some company, even…even if you didn't want it. Even if you weren't really aware of it. You...that's something you'll never have to ask of me, really. I _told_ you…I am happy to help. I…"

Merlin ran down there, far more nervous than he cared to admit. Had he presumed too much? Arthur's look…it was so _fragile_ , filled with a powerful, twisting emotion Merlin found himself hesitant to identify, and it made him look so terribly vulnerable and young.

Perhaps that's why, when Arthur abruptly dropped his head against Merlin's shoulder, the younger boy could not find it in himself to object.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Crown Princes rarely found themselves blessed with the gift of a companion who knew their every fault and weakness, and did not seek to exploit it. Even rarer were the companions whom, _despite_ those faults and weaknesses (or said Crown Prince's royal blood), did not treat them as anything _other_ than what they were—a person, who had the same desires, and the same fears, as everyone else.

Heartbreakingly enough, such unconditional support and (Arthur hoped) regard from Merlin was far more than Uther had ever shown his son.

How _fast_ that relationship had grown, into one of the most important things in Arthur's life, actually scared him. He'd never had someone _like_ Merlin in his life before, and having such a relationship, one that Arthur could not bear to lose, often caused the prince to lash out, and otherwise obfuscate how much it truly _meant_ to him.

Now, though…now, with Merlin's appeal ringing in his ears, Arthur finally felt confident enough to simply sit there for a little while, and cherish it. To keep his face buried in the younger man's shoulder, and think about how _grateful_ he was that the fates had conspired to shove Merlin into his path—quite literally, actually.

He breathed in Merlin's scent—of herbs, and leather, and sunlight—and reflected that one of the truly great ironies of his life was that his father, who prided himself on his ability to eliminate all possible weaknesses, had in fact given him the one thing he could never truly imagine living without.

Arthur would grieve for Leon, for Guinevere, for Morgana or his father, were he to lose them, but to lose Merlin—

"Arthur…?" his breathed name, and the head that fell to rest lightly against his own, caused the Crown Prince to jump.

"Mer…" he coughed, scrambling upright in an attempt to brush this off somehow, " _Mer_ lin…I…" he felt sure he cheeks were searing red.

A hand on the back of his head pressed his brow down until it leaned against a bony shoulder, "It's all right," Merlin murmured into his hair, "I…don't mind, really. It's just…we should probably head back soon. You _did_ promise Leon we would be home in time for supper, and well…it's nearly sunset."

Unsure whether to freeze or sigh unhappily, Arthur did a little of both, muttering, "I know…I _know_. It's just…is it horrible that I wish we could stay here for as long as we like, and not worry about anything? I…I enjoyed today, Merlin. Really."

A sigh, and Merlin stirred against him, but Arthur could feel the smile he wore pressed to the strands of his hair, "Then I will endeavor to make sure it happens again sometime. Come on, Arthur, we really do need to go…unless, of course, you would like me to stop time for you. I might be able to do that."

Arthur snorted, almost believing Merlin could be half-serious if the thought weren't so _ludicrous_ , "Well, then, we'd have an entirely _different_ set of issues, wouldn't we? Not the least of which is the fact that I would be harboring a _sorcerer_ …"

Silence answered his remark for a full second, before a tentative question touched his ears, "Harboring…?"

Snorting again, Arthur at last sat back on his heels and swiped his cheeks free of moisture he swore _wasn't_ tears, "Well, that, and the fact that I would have had to box your ears until you were deaf, for being such a complete _idiot_. Executing you would create far too much paperwork, if you think about it."

" _Paperwork_?" Merlin sputtered. "That _isn't_ very reassuring, you know-!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, fighting a reluctant grin and tugging Merlin to his feet, "It's not meant to be." Releasing Merlin's hand, he shielded his eyes against the fiery orange light of sunset with his own, "Come on, it's just past five by the sun's shadow. They will be expecting us soon, and I am not sure how far we are from the castle."

He received a sharp, utterly _irritated_ glower from his manservant in return. When he shrugged, unaffected, Merlin scowled, "Shouldn't you have thought about that _before_ we stopped for the afternoon?"

Arthur turned his back to him and smirked, heading towards their stallion, "It's more exciting that way."

Not for the first time that day, he ignored Merlin's half-relieved, half-frustrated groan.

IOIOIOIOIOI

As these things often do in a gossip-starved castle, rumors flew over the next few months about the prince and his manservant. Several matrons of the lower town claimed to have seen the two boys engaging in rough and tumble horseplay as they left the city that would not have been out of place for two brothers. Multiple guards who manned the drawbridge claimed the two boys weren't acting like _brothers_ , they were having a _love tryst_ , and pointed to the fact that the Crown Prince and his manservant had arrived that same evening riding double as evidence of such an affair. Neither the matrons of the lower town, nor the guards of the drawbridge, could ever decide which party had the most accurate information. Eventually, they decided that perhaps the true story contained a little bit of both.

Arthur and Merlin mostly ignored them. However, one rumor never _could_ quite be laid to rest, and it always succeeded in bringing a satisfied grin to Arthur's lips, and a mortified one to Merlin's: among the knights, word spread about the Crown Prince training his manservant in the art of weaponry, and Prince Arthur's purpose _for_ training his manservant in weaponry was apparently due to the fact that Merlin had _single-handedly_ fended off an entire score of bandits.

No agreements were ever reached, however, on just how many assailants the Crown Prince's manservant actually defeated. Skeptical knights (Sir Kay and Sir Boris among them) insisted it could not have been more than four, or two, or even none at all; more generous knights (including those who had actually _seen_ Prince Arthur's manservant in action on the training field) persisted to believe that he had held off at least ten.

If Merlin himself were ever asked, he insisted that he had only helped, and Prince Arthur was the true hero in the situation. Prince Arthur himself just snorted and (invariably, having been near him) cuffed his manservant good-naturedly upside the head, "Do not listen to him," insisted. "He defeated at least as many as I."

Eventually, when Uther himself asked Sir Leon, Camelot's head knight merely grinned and informed him, "Why do you think we call him "Lady Hawk" in our tactical maneuvers, Sire? He has earned it."

_Finis_


End file.
